Garry's Promises
by Ambivertal
Summary: This is going to be all Garry's POV of what happened after escaping the gallery… Based on The Promise of Reunion ending. This is my first time writing, so please do not judge harshly! Hope you enjoy!


…I made promises to a little girl, and I intend to keep them… 

After remembering the events with Ib in Guertena's deformed Art Gallery, I had to go. I kept her handkerchief, promising to return it to her in a better condition. I will give it to Ib soon, since we will meet again. I ran back to my apartment. Taking in the scenery, the noise, the people, and vehicles that pass by me, I am thankful for God giving me another chance at life, and to have met a new friend to live it with me.

I reached the front door of my home, kind of fumbled with the keys for a while, but then got ahold of it and opened the door. I see that nothing has changed. The floors are still clean, the various pictures and paintings still in tact and the pieces of furniture are still... Furniture. This brought be a surge of relief. At that moment, I went to the bathroom and cleaned the bloody handkerchief that was given to me by my newfound friend. After that, I walked to my couch to nap for a bit. I woke up a few minutes later to get ready for classes. Groggily, I got off the couch, took shower and changed my clothes.

My college campus is fairly large and the local park is right next to it. I did not have many courses today, which was good. Today, I only had Teaching Methods, Artistic Styles and Art Concepts, and Art History. Art was the one thing that has brought me joy as a young child. I can recall my ten-year-old self studying older men and women painting the scenery at parks and other local areas. It was phenomenal, being able to take something you see and just recreate it on a canvas. Also, being able to create anything, to immerse yourself into art and, even feeling what artists felt while painting. I am studying to be an art teacher, hoping to teach the younger crowd about different artists, how their arts convey their own emotions, and hope that one day, my students would appreciate art.

The lectures today were pretty boring, they were easy to understand but the assignments would be difficult for sure. After my last class, I went home, worked my assignments and finally, took a long, deserving rest. For a week, I went to the classes and tried to live life how I normally did, doing assignments, talking to my friends and acquaintances, sometimes doodling in my notebooks... It is not the same... It won't ever be the same. Nightmares of the art gallery come every time I sleep. Mary, the headless statues, the blue dolls… They are driving me sleepless at night to the point of insomnia. The frustrations are starting to build, so after my last class, I would go to the park to clear my mind.

The sun was still up, probably because it was three-thirty. Children were just let out of school and playing on the swings and slides; their parents were watching them while mingling with other parents. Life for them all seems fine, refreshing even. However, I do not think that can be my life. My walk was good for me, alone time to think, and attempt to rid of the horrid memories in my mind. The sights around me were soothing. Seeing smiles on many families, laughter, the pure emotion of joy I dearly miss, all around me, but I am too alone to have even a glimpse of it. After a while, I see her. Long, chocolate locks of hair flowing in the light breeze complemented with ivory skin and beautiful red eyes, Ib, I finally found you.

When I saw her, a genuine smile and happiness filled me up, replacing any uncertainty, hindrance, and fear I had. I walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. Ib was sitting next to a tree and turned in surprise. I told her I was here to fulfill our promise, our promise of reunion. She smiled and held my hand, allowing me to lead the way.

Giant ruby eyes stared at the plate with awe. It was filled with different flavors of the small, hamburger shaped pastries I spoke fondly about in the wretched gallery. The gallery, although almost killed the both of us, it is where I met a great friend. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I saw Ib reach out for the sweet, meringue-based macaron, urging me to take one so we can eat them together. Never in my life did I have these feelings of content. Now, I will promise to be her friend, to stay by her side, to be her shoulder to cry on, comfort her when times are tough, to love her, to keep her happy, and to come running when she needs help.


End file.
